


Fit for a king

by widowsdoll



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Daddy Kink, Erik is a SOFTY, Erik is just lonely, F/M, Pet Names, Pure fluff and smut, Reader was tested on by Hydra, Smut, Some manipulation, Teasing, Tho not really intended, Vaginal Fingering, its mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widowsdoll/pseuds/widowsdoll
Summary: Erik wanted the Wakandan Throne, along with you, someone who knew what it was like to suffer.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger/Reader
Kudos: 29





	Fit for a king

**Author's Note:**

> Why isn't there that much Erik smut?? He's a King (literally)

You sit on Erik’s lap, laughing about a comment he made only seconds ago. Some joke at the expense of one of T’Challa’s personal guards. You feel warm, his hand wrapped around your waist, rubbing your tummy softly. 

The big wide doors open, and W’Kabi walks in, with an unfamiliar person being dragged in. You survey his face, he looks guilty. 

Erik’s grip on your waist tightens, and you sit up, moving back against him. His fingers graze around your skirt. 

“Who's this?” Erik asks. 

W’Kabi moves his fleece sweater, bowing his head. “My king, this man was caught attempting to cross the border.” 

“How come?” Erik asks the man directly. The one who looks guilty of something.

You look at him, study his features and something about him… is familiar. You shift in Erik’s lap, something that doesn't go unnoticed as he looks to you. You look back. Sharing a gaze for a second before he looks back to the man. Your gazes are an unspoken language. 

Sometimes at dinner you'll prop your barefoot to his groin and move it around. He'll sit back and moan at the contact. Not caring that the Dora Milaje watch. They don't look. Just stand. Looking out. Not at. You'll press your foot harder, and he'll hold your ankle as you move it. Then he'll look at you, eyes full of lust. You know the look. It's the look you see when he looks up at you in the mirror as he's pounding you into the mattress. The look when you look back during bath time and he's 3 fingers deep in you. 

“The fuck you want in Wakanda?” Erik’s voice brings you back. 

You're wet now, and you whimper lightly as you rub against Erik’s thigh. It feels good, you want more. But theres a dumb audience. Stupid, stupid audience.

The movement doesn't go unnoticed, and the room’s mood shifts. 

“Why were you at our borders?” Erik speaks again, “Speak now.” 

That's it! You know where you recognize him. Of course. 

You tug on Erik’s robe. He only shakes it off, anger radiating off of him due to the man’s incompetence to speak. You tug again. 

“Angel, wait.” He warns. 

“Daddy.” You murmur. 

He looks at you. His full attention. Like a spotlight. 

“What is it angel?” He says. 

“I know him.” You whisper. Then you lean to his ear and cup your hand around it, like a child would. “He works for Tony Stark, Natasha’s old handler when she went undercover, he’s umm… a bodyguard or maybe like a mook for Tony.” You weren't sure, your core was vibrating too hard for your brain to function. 

Erik’s dick gets hard under you. The memory of you leaving T’Challa’s side and willingly joining him got him hard. It still did. 

XXX

You had gone to Wakanda for Tony. You were on break from college, waiting for your second semester of freshman year to begin up again. Tony, the one who warded you in the tower, thought it would be nice for you to go and learn at the hands of Shuri, an amazing and technological genius. 

‘Wakanda will be great for you.’ Tony had said. ‘Get some sun, help build some suits.’ 

But when you arrived, there had been an unexpected visitor. A man they had called Killmonger had brought a thief in front of the court. Shuri had you on her side, hiding slightly. You had been discussing Panther suit updates, when W’Kabi and the men escorted Killmonger in. He was handsome. In a weird way. Your heart fluttered when you made eye contact. 

He straightened up. 

One man speaks up, ‘Is this man Wakandan or not?’ 

Thanks to Shuri, you had been learning Xhosa, with some books and papers she gave you. She thought it would be more fun, for your learning experience. She also wanted to make a secret handshake, but Shuri also said such silly things should be left between them in the lab. In a fit of giggles, you agreed and practiced with her. 

T’Challa stood, and trailed to the man, ‘Speak.’ 

Killmonger stands up straight, ‘I'm standing in your house. Serving justice to a man who stole your vibranium and murdered your people. Justice your King couldn't deliver.’ 

The room dissolves into hisses. Your eyes don't leave the stranger. 

T’Challa whispers something to him you can't hear. You reach for Shuri’s hand, and she takes you. She looks at you, then back to them. You rest your head on your shoulder. It comforts you. 

Killmonger laughs, ‘I want the throne.’

The room bursts out in laughs and hisses, along with some scoffs. Shuri tenses. You hold onto her tighter, like a child would to ease their scared parent. 

The man smiles, and steps forward, looking over the room. ‘Y'all sittin' up here comfortable. Must feel good. There's about 2 billion people all over the world that look like us but their lives are a lot harder, Wakanda has the tools to liberate them all.’ 

The words hit you. Remembering your family very vividly, taken from them at a young age to a Hydra base in another country. If it weren't for Tony… and Wanda. 

‘And what tools are those?’ T’Challa asked. 

The man smirks, ‘Vibranium. Your weapons.’ 

The room is silent. Shuri tensed up again, releasing your hand. You frowned at the loss. 

‘O-our weapons will not be used to wage war on the world. It is not our way to be judge, jury, and executioner for people who are not our own.’ T’Challa informs him. He crosses his arms. 

‘Not your own? But didn't life start here, on this continent? So ain’t all people your people?’ Killmonger questions. 

T’Challa responded, but the words began to blur for you. Your stomach began to hurt, your nerves on edge. You wanted to go back to your room and sleep. 

‘Son, We have entertained this charlatan for too long.’ The Queen Mother spoke. You hoped she would end this. ‘Reject his request.’ 

‘Oh, I ain't requesting nothing.’ Killmonger spoke up. He looked at you, then at the Elders. ‘Ask who I am.’ 

Shuri lunged forward, ‘You're Erik Stevens.’ You wanted to pull her back and protect her from the strange man. Not that Shuri needed protection. But your love for the princess outweighed any thinking. ‘An American black operative. A mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. That's who you are.’ 

‘That's not my name, Princess.’ Killmonger shook his head, ‘Ask me, King.’ 

‘No.’ T’Challa spoke. ‘Take him away.’ 

An Elder spoke up, ‘Who are you?’ 

‘I am N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu! I found my daddy with Panther claws in his chest! You ain't the son of a king. You a son of a murderer.’ Killmonger finished. Rage danced in his eyes.

You gasped softly, and Shuri returned to you, taking your hand again. 

Queen Mother stood up, ‘You're lying!’ 

‘I'm afraid not, Queen Mother.’ W’Kabi nodded. 

The entire conversation turned into a blur. The stranger had challenged T’Challa. 

The next time you came back to reality, you watched Shuri get ready for the fight. You sat on your bed, snuggled under blankets, pulling it up to your chin. 

‘Wait here.’ Shuri told you, 'I'll be back soon, T’Challa will finish this. When I do come back, we'll work in the lab and fix up the suit.’ 

You nodded and watched her leave. You then fell back into the covers and nodded off. 

Shuri hadn't returned when you awoken. It was 2 a.m, and you felt hungry. You missed your friend, deeply. You gathered the smallest blanket around you, and trailed into the throne room, hoping to find T’Challa. Instead, the stranger had his hands behind his back, legs apart, watching over out of the window. 

‘You didn't flee with your friends?’ He asked. 

He sensed your presence, you guessed. 

‘Y-yes.’ You softly spoke. 'Are you going to hurt me?’ 

‘Nah.’ He turned, ‘C’mere.’ 

You walked to him, gripping the blanket a little more harder. You looked up at him, you felt small. He reached his hand out and put a hair behind your ear. 

'Where's Princess Shuri?’ You asked him, a little memorized with the whole action. 

'Don't worry about that right now. What about you huh? Where are you from?’ He asked. 

‘Sokovia.’ You spoke. 

‘That is?’ 

‘Europe.’ You replied. ‘I was taken to a Hydra base, an…’ 

‘Shhhh.’ He shushed you, running his thumb along your cheek. Your core vibrated. He ran it on your bottom lip, ‘So, T’Challa have you warm his bed’

You shake your head, ‘N-no. He's a friend, I sleep…’ 

'That's not what I asked angel.’ 

‘No. We haven't slept together. He loves another, I worked in the lab with his sister.’ You answered honestly. 

He kissed you. His breath tasted like cinnamon, and his hands were shaking lightly around your waist. You kiss back, holding his face in your hands, the kiss is sensitive. Soft. Not at all like the demanding person he looked like. 

He took your thin shirt straps that were tied behind your neck, ‘Mmm little angel. You wanna please your King?’ 

King? Your stomach became nauseous. From the arousal and the confusion, you stood still like a deer wrapped in a snake’s hold. 

'Where's T’Challa?’ You ask softly. 

‘Shhhh. C’mere.’ He sits on the throne and pats his lap. ‘Come ride your King.’ 

You hesitate, could you betray Shuri? Where was she? You felt lightheaded. Killmonger must've seen your hesitation. 

'She's alive. So is the other little spy.’ He nods. ‘T’Challa ain't.’ 

‘I figured.’ You looked to the ground.

‘C’mere, angel. Lemme make you feel better.’ He smiled.

‘Why me?’ You ponder.

‘I figured you weren't all that loyal to the King. I know you aren't from here, but you have that look in your eyes when I told him about my plan. You spent your life in some Hydra facility, away from your family. Don't you want others to have the chance to be with their parents, like you couldn't with yours?’ 

Tears form in your eyes and you back away.

‘Hey, hey, hey.’ He cooes, ‘You and I will change that. I need you by my side, aight? You know what that's like.’ 

He kisses you, and you kiss back. You forget the moment, and let him pick you up. He sets you on his lap, and moves your hips down on him. You moan a bit, it's all too much. 

‘Please.’ You moan. 

‘Please what angel?’ 

‘Take me.’ You moan. ‘Have me, I want you. Want to be by your side.’ 

He took you that night, 5 times. He took you softly on the throne, you riding him, him doing the most effort, bouncing your weight. Your moans filled the room. Then on T’Challa- his bed. Your head pressed into the pillows as you whimpered, his grip on your waist tight. The last 3 were a blur, completely. You sobbed, and he took care of you after. Ran you a bath. You moved in. 

XXX

You lean into his neck, looking up at him. Like he hung the moon. He tapped his other fingers along the handle of the throne. He was thinking. 

“Brand him and leave him at the border.” Erik finally spoke. 

“Daddy.” You softly say. 

He looks at you, “Angel?” 

“He most likely has information on Stark.” You offer. 

“I don't care about Stark.” He tells you. 

“I want to know what's going on.” You rub his groin and moan low enough for him to hear. “Daddy be done with him. Leave him in a cell and take me. I need you so bad. I need you. I need you.” 

“Everybody get the fuck out!” Erik demands. “Take his ass to the cells.” 

Once they're all gone, he pulls up your skirt, and you shift so he can get rid of your panties. They fall to the floor, and the air feels good on your aching core. He makes quick work, you lift your feet and set them at his knees, backing all the way up to his chest. 

He slides his fingers on your folds, you bite your lip and lean back. You moan loudly now, moving against his fingers. 

“Angel.” He warns you. “Stop moving.” 

“Gotta have you.” You sob. 

“You'll have me. Stop.” Erik slaps your pussy and keeps rubbing. You doubt you can take anymore when he slides in his three fingers, and brings his other hand to rub your clit. 

You turn back to him, kissing him and taking his hair in your hand. You try not to grind on his hands, but you want him. He feels too good. It's all too good. 

“You like this angel?” He asks. 

You nod fast. 

“Whatchu like about it?” He ponders, fingering you faster. “You like that you're on my lap at every minute of the day? You like that you're in my bed every night, my head buried between your legs? You like that I fuck you? What do you like angel?” 

“You.” You moan. “I like you.” 

“Yeah, I know you do baby.” He kisses you again. 

Your hand trails from his hair to his cheek, and you kiss him deeper. You like this. You feel safe. You almost remember your friend… when he pinches your clit. You cry and grip him hard, your nails digging into him. 

“Daddy!” You cry. 

“Let it out angel.” He rubs you through your orgasm, as you lean against him. 

Your eyes become sleepy, he pulls your blanket from off the back of one of the chairs and wraps you in it. You hear him mumble something before you fall asleep.


End file.
